Halloween

A few weeks ago we got an email at work about the annual costume contest. I thought, well, I haven't embarrassed myself enough at this company, so I emailed Brendan, who sits right next to me, and told him we should go as each other. He agreed right away, which is funny because today he keeps saying, "How did I let you talk me into this?" I knew it would either be a really good idea and people would get it, or it would be a really bad idea and people would think we're weird. In the end, it's funny to us, and that's all that matters. We get to do impressions of each other and say things like "You've never looked better" and "I find myself strangely attracted to you now."

Yesterday we brought clothes for each other to wear. I tried to find the most feminine shirt in my closet, but it turns out I sort of dress like an old man, so I just gave him something tight. I'm wearing his shirt, corduroy jacket, and DePaul hat. We're both wearing each other's shoes. I don't know if that's more embarrassing for him or me. And we're both wearing each other's photo badges. Brendan's wearing a pair of cheap black-framed glasses I found at CVS. I almost drew on facial hair but figured that was a little too committed, especially since NO ONE ELSE in our department is wearing a costume.

This has turned out to be the best idea I've ever had. People LOVE US today. Tomorrow we'll go back to being those losers who sort of already dress alike, but today, TODAY we are popular. For the costume contest, we had to get our picture taken and then they posted all the pictures on a board in the cafeteria during lunch. We sat right by the board so people would maybe feel guilted into voting for us. But we didn't win. We didn't even place. Because no one outside of our department gets it. Which is why it's uncomfortable to walk around alone. Without the other one, people just think we're just strangely dressed. I've gotten some looks in the restroom. But the best part, the BEST part, is when our co-worker Greg asked Brendan, "Are those her jeans?" No, no they are not.

Honey Hill

On Saturday Brendan and I drove out to the country to go apple pickin' at Honey Hill Orchard near DeKalb. They also make honey. I was really jonesin' for a corn maze this year, but had to settle for apples. I still loved it. Everything is more fun in the country. Suddenly it's fun to do work.

We first had lunch at a Mexican restaurant in DeKalb, which I noticed from the framed article on the wall was voted Best Mexican in the city. Umm, dear DeKalb, you have one Mexican restaurant and it's like a Holiday Inn with pinatas. K.I.T., Erin. I love small country towns. LOVE them. With old, old houses and a downtown with, like, a liquor store and a dance studio. I wonder how many people go back and forth between the liquor store and the dance studio. I would.











Hahahaaa, the Bears.

Milwaukee

First of all, I came home last night and, for the second day in a row, found that Peewee had been using my computer. Whether or not it was on purpose has yet to be determined by the Nanny Cam I've set up inside a teddy bear, but she had opened three browser windows and DID GOOGLE SEARCHES. WHAT? Of course they were just strings of random letters and numbers, but that's only because it's very hard to type with paws. Everyone knows that. So I'm doing an experiment today in which I've moved the computer to a different location to see if she uses it again.

Brendan and I left work early yesterday to see his favorite band, the Polyphonic Spree, at the Pabst Theater in Milwaukee. I agreed to go mostly because I had never been to Wisconsin and because I really like leaving work early. What I already knew about the band is that there are two dozen members and they all wear uniforms/robes and sing about happiness and love. So I was certain that by the end of the night I was going to belong to a hippie cult and be singing about sitting at the welcome table. But, then again, they were also on an episode of Scrubs, and I do trust that show with my life.

We first had dinner in Milwaukee at an Irish bar called Packy's (aka, Where Every White Man In a Hat Goes to Smoke After Work) because Brendan's dad, who is also Irish, is the sausage supplier. I had the sausage basket and played some Eagles in the jukebox. That in itself would've been a full night for me.

I didn't get to see much of downtown Milwaukee, but it seemed nice in the dark. The theater was nice. We stood right up against the stage the whole time, through all THREE bands. While we were waiting, I overheard two girls behind me have a five-minute conversation about cottage cheese, and then one said she couldn't believe they didn't have Dean's milk at the store the other day. I was like, "Wow, this really is what people in Wisconsin talk about."

A local band called the Red Walls opened the show, and I couldn't get over how skinny they were, so I didn't really pay attention. The second band was Rooney, and of course I'd never heard of them either, but I was close enough to the guitar player to see the holes in the crotch of his jeans. Jealous? The Polyphonic Spree didn't come on until after ten, and by that time I was ready for bed. It was a very entertaining show, though, and I know that because there was a lot of confetti. They wore black army uniforms, then changed into white robes for the encore. You don't have to tell me that's weird. But the music was pretty good and surging, and the lead singer was very charismatic.

I didn't home until 1:30 last night so now I'm tired, and you want to know what I've done today? You're reading it. It's great to have things like this to break up the week, but from now on I need those things to end at a decent hour so I can go to bed by 9:30. Because I don't know what happened to being twenty-three, but I'm seconds away from spending my nights nodding off on the couch during Everybody Loves Raymond reruns.

Pen Pal

I have an article due today for the January issue of the Pen Pal, something about 10 ways to stay on top of stress. I don't know how I get stuck with these advice articles. They gave me a reference article to base it on—written by Gabrielle Reece, the volleyball player. The point is, I haven't started it. But I have written my fake version that I wish I could submit.

10 or So Ways to Stay on Top of Stress
by Erin

So the stress of the holidays is over, but now you might be catching up on missed work and dwelling on the tear-flavored ham and mimosa binges (I know, I have a web cam in your house). Well, don’t worry too much about that, because crying while eating is actually a healthy way to reduce stress, according to Dr. Riojas, who is me.

Want to know more ways to stay on top of stress? Just keep reading!

1. Turn on the TV
I hear all the time from articles written by footballer Gabrielle Reece that it’s good to turn off the TV and get out of the house. That’s a bunch of baloney. I say turn ON the TV. Watching TV is a great escape from your life and your stress. If you’re worried about what will happen when you turn off the TV, THEN JUST DON’T TURN IT OFF.

2. Don’t go to work
Avoiding what I call “hot spots” of stress is key to not having stress. If work is stressing you out, don’t go. If your marriage is stressing you out, don’t go home. If school is too stressful, drop out. You don’t need school to get where you want to be. Look at me, I didn’t go to school and I’m a doctor.

3. Drink more
I know that too much alcohol is bad for your stomach or whatever, so I’ve developed a healthy drinking schedule that I’m in the process of having patented so I can sell it to other doctors for a nominal fee of $5,000. It goes a-like this: Monday through Friday, have two drinks every hour for twelve hours. Do not take with food—that just kills the effects. Go easy on Saturday and Sunday. Have only three drinks every hour for eight hours.

10. Complain to anyone who will listen
Are you lonely? Don’t keep it inside! Tell your wife, tell your State Farm agent like I do, tell that dude at the gym. When we bottle our emotions it’s like bottling a beer: it’s worthless until you open that bottle of beer and let it out. You have to open yourself and let people hear your tasty sad stories.

Up North

Now that I live here, I get to see the Michigan tourism ads. A couple weeks ago I saw a commercial of a lovely fall-colored place and said, "I want to go there. Where is that? Is that Wisconsin?" And then the voice-over said, "Your trip begins at Michigan.org." I was like, "What! I just left that place!"

I love up north in the fall. The Travelin' Cat Show was up at the cabin for a few weeks, so I decided to visit for the weekend. Plus my grandma's birthday was Wednesday, and what's a better gift than me? I came up with a brilliant plan that involved faking sick on Thursday afternoon and leaving work early to drive up there. I was worried about my acting skills, but I was pretty good and I'm now thinking about a career change. Maybe I could be an extra on House. I hope my boss didn't look in my car that day because she would've seen a duffel bag, sleeping bag, pillow, and a piece of paper entitled, "Directions to Up North, Michigan, After Lying to My Boss About Being Sick."

Friday was mostly spent watching my mom and Robert clean and prepare the cabin for winter. I also took a zillion cat pictures and fed the chipmunk like every fifteen minutes. The chipmunk lives under the guest room and comes when you call his name (Chippy). Ain't no joke. We're BFF now. I was like, "I'm just gonna let Chippy sleep with me tonight." That night we had a delish home-cooked meal, with wine and pie, then I built a fire that Kent would've been proud of.

My mom and Robert packed up the cat show and left on Saturday morning. I went with my grandma and her friend Don to a place called Wellington Farm so I could get a "damn pumpkin," as my grandma would probably say. "Are you happy now? You got your damn pumpkin." At the farm they had giant birds that I called ostriches, but I'm sure that's not right. After we pulled out of there I could tell those two were up to something, whispering in the front seat. Sure enough, my grandma asked, "Do you want to go to the casino?" Yes, PLEASE take me to the casino. I don't have an oxygen tank or any money, but what the hell. Actually, here's an exciting new game: you give ME all the money you were going to throw away into a slot machine, and there's a 50% chance I'll give it back.

So we went to Turtle Creek, and my grandma gave me some money to spend. I was like, "Score, money for groceries!" I thought we had separated, so I went to the cafeteria to sit and wait for them and maybe have an asthma attack. After a few minutes I hear, "Will Erin Riojas please come to the front entrance." She had me PAGED. HAHA! I was like a little kid dragging my feet to the front. I guess I wandered off without knowing the meeting plan. My plan was just to look for them when I got bored after two minutes, but good thing that wasn't the meeting plan. Turns out it's not easy to find your grandma in a casino full of grandmas. Eventually I gave in and played the quarter slots and lost half of the money. Don won something like $300 in the first fifteen minutes.

After the casino, we took a drive through the Pigeon River Forest. It's beautiful and dense. Like me! We stopped at the Black River to take pictures and so some people could have a cigarette. They kept doing that in the car: "Do you want to stop and take a picture of this?" but really they just wanted a cigarette. Oh, I complain, but I love it. She complains about me too. That's how my family shows our love.

I miss living closer to Lewiston. It's a nice getaway. I noticed that they give the fishing report on the radio instead of a rambling traffic report, like here. "The perch is fair in Thunder Bay" is so much more pleasant than, "It's 45 on the Edens from the junction out to Lake Cook, an hour on the flip trip." I still don't really know what that means.

This is the cabin's guest shirt. Uncle Bill bought it at the dollar store in town during Finn Fest weekend when he ran out of shirts.